


The endless parade

by Wigfrid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apocalypse, Depression, Gen, Original Fiction, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:16:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wigfrid/pseuds/Wigfrid
Summary: A quick writing practice.





	The endless parade

It’s been a long day. Empty but still slipping by too quickly. I need to do my laundry so I browse my phone for an hour and watch two episodes of a show that doesn’t even make me laugh anymore. I fold half of my dark clothes, set aside the pair I keep for work, and then decide I’m too tired to finish. Why am I tired? I’ve done nothing today. 

Fucking nothing.  
..

It’s been a long day. I heard something moving outside, something big and slow and so hungry. I thought it would be at least a week before they found me here, tracked my scent through the rust and death of this rotted out city. I thought I’d have more time to scavenge without needing to look over my shoulder every few minutes. But I was wrong and I can hear them, scales and long ragged fingernails scratching through the rubble. They are just the start of the parade. Where they are, the others follow. 

I need to get a move on. 

I need to get something done. 

..

It’s my day off. I was called out of work so I crawled back into bed, clinging to the luxury of the clean (ish) sheets even though I know pleasure doesn’t cure this soul deep ache. I can fill my world with nothing but distractions, gorge myself on humor and indulgences. Eat good food and cum in the middle of the day, nap and watch comedy. It does nothing. I will go to bed bloated on frivolity and still hunger.

I’m empty today. 

I need to go grocery shopping. I never want to eat again. 

..

I thought this city would have more supplies and I was right. Just in time, because I have nothing in my stomach this morning. Most of the stores are torn apart, picked clean like bones in a ravenous desert but the homes are too many to be scoured so thoroughly. 

I creep through old memories, pull open cabinets and look at dishes that once fed the long dead. It makes my heart ache. The spoiled oranges on the counter churns my empty gut and the sight of canned food waiting for me makes my stomach ache even worse. 

Finally I give in, crouched in a dusty kitchen that once held late night snacks and early breakfasts, eating slimy sweet slices of fruit as I listen for the tell tale whispers of the parade. 

..

My days bleed together. I need to call my parents. My roommate isn’t around much. My boyfriend and I are fighting. My job has a new promotion going. 

I watch it all blend and spill into it’s self. I wake up, I feed myself, I make money or I spend it. I want to hide. I wish I could feel something. I forget to shower or I take one until the water runs cold. I wish I could look forward to something. I wish I could feel something. My days bleed together and I forget each moment as it passes.  
..

I’m bleeding. I listened for whispers but they still caught me as I left the building, wire thin fingers reaching for me, mouths open and empty. They release a constant stream of nightmares, of truths I can’t escape. Quiet voices in my head. 

It was a week before the world ended that I even spoke to my mom, a phone call I can barely recall. My last kiss was quick and half finished, a brief brush on lips and cheek as I rushed into work. My roommate died alone. I lost them all and I didn’t even notice because I let them lose me first. 

Barbwire clings to my wrists, fingers as sharp as piano strings dig into my flesh and I scream when I wrench away, clinging to my bag of supplies as I run from them, as their message follows me. They never chase you. They don’t need to. The worst pain they can inflict is regret and regret doesn’t need to hurry, it burrows in. You can’t outrun it. I can’t. 

Even though I try.

..

I see the middle of the parade as I climb a half burnt out skyscraper. Tall regal things, pale as maggots with hands like trembling petals and tongues that twist in the wind. Dark and bloated.  
They sing into the breeze and I feel the air temperature drop immediately. The sky is cold and colorless, pulled putty grey as they creak forward on long stiff legs, ever onward. The constant parade. 

Sweet voices spill memories as easily as the tears freezing on my cheeks. I started that fight. I forgot to say I love you before I hung up. Regret is just the beginning but it’s so much worse when they reach inside you, searching for the forgotten memories, the ones where you weren’t kind, where you took everything for granted. The ones that make you look bad. 

I cling to the cold metal, choking on sugary sweet bile as I push away the acidic taste of old anger, of casual dismissal. I stare down at the congregation of hell incarnate and I feel like the monster. 

..

I saw my parents today and I hugged both of them before I went back to my apartment. We played cards and ate popcorn and watched shows together once the deck got too cold and buggy. 

My boyfriend swung by, just to give me a kiss before work. We talked about the future, laughed about nothing. I’m excited for his birthday next month. I made him something. It’s silly but I hope he likes it anyway. 

My roommate and I made dinner together tonight. We chopped onions and talked about our jobs, told the funny stories and bitched about the bad ones. We watched a horror movie and yelled at the screen. I’m so happy we’re close. 

I’m so happy to see my family. 

I’m so happy to hug my lover.

I’m so happy I have a friend. 

I was happy. 

I just didn’t notice. 

..

It’s dark now and the end of the parade has arrived. Huge behemoths stagger through the streets, wailing a thousand different screams in the shadows. I recognize the voices though I’ve never heard my mom in that much pain, I’ve never heard my dad cry so hard. My roommate is screaming through bloody lungs and my boyfriend is barely there, just tiny little bursts of sound. 

Whimpering. 

I’ve never seen him scared. I shouldn’t know these sounds and I know they are false. (I hope they are false.) but these creatures make sure I know in my heart that this is what it would sound like. I want so badly to hear them again, to see them again but this is all I have left. A twisted horror soundtrack of everyone I used to love. 

I try to cover my ears but it doesn’t work. It never works. 

I think back to a better time, try to escape into old memories and hope against hope that the sounds bleeding into my brain won’t stain my past. 

Because I didn’t notice then but I do now. 

I was happy. 

And now I’m not.


End file.
